All In The Family
by Ellivia
Summary: Olivia sets out to face her demons when a homicide investigation hits close to home. Elliot tags along and drama ensues. Takes place after 'Burned' and also includes some spoilers for the upcoming episode 'Philadelphia' so consider yourselves WARNED.
1. Prologue

-1Prologue:

A thick layer of snow blanketed the city, a drop in temperature having transformed showers into flurries the night before. The chill in the air was shiver inducing. It seemed that no amount of clothing was enough to ward off the frigid temperatures. It was a typical February in Philly and Richard Miller hated every bone chilling minute of it.

Muttering a string of obscenities under his breath, Richard slowly dragged his tired body up the snow covered steps that lead to the front door of his modest home. Sighing in exhaustion, he pushed open the unlocked door and entered the cramped foyer.

"Honey, is that you?" The shrill voice of his wife rang out from the kitchen.

"Of course it's me," He replied gruffly, bending over to remove his boots and wincing when he heard the bones in his knees crack. "You expecting someone else?"

"No." She responded, ignoring his sarcasm as she stepped into the hallway and helped him remove his jacket. She placed a kiss on his cheek before turning to hang his things on the coat rack beside the door. "Although, Jeffery did call to say he might pop in for a visit."

"Great," Richard sneered at the mention of his son's name before turning his back on her and retreating into the living room. He eased himself down onto the warn couch and sighed in relief as his tired muscles finally began to relax. "The only time that ingrate darkens our doorstep is when he needs more money and I can tell ya right now, he ain't getting another dime outta me!"

"He's a good boy, Richard." His wife argued, walking back into the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready. "He just needs a little help."

"He needs to get a damn job, that's what he needs." Richard declared, turning on the t.v. to try and drown out any further commentary from his wife.

"You know how hard things have been for him since Sarah and the kids left," his wife continued to defend their only child. Richard sighed in frustration and turned up the volume. "After everything he's been through…"

"Everything _he's _been through?!" Richard shouted, switching off the useless television and throwing the remote across the room. "The dumbass gambled away every penny he ever earned! Is it really surprising that his wife ran off to try and find a real man?"

"Maybe I should have done the same thing." Richard heard his wife mutter under her breath as she placed his dinner down on the t.v. table in front of him.

"What did you say?" Richard asked, his voice low and dripping with indignant rage.

"Nothing," she said timidly, avoiding his heated gaze. "I didn't say anything." She barely had the words out before Richard abruptly leapt up from the couch, carelessly knocking over the t.v. table. He watched helplessly as the steaming hot bowl of soup spilled down his wife's slender legs. She yelped in pain and Richard reached out to silence her, covering her mouth with his sweaty palm.

"Shut the fuck up!" he hissed demandingly. "It was an accident! Jesus Christ, you would think I'd poured acid down your back or something the way you're carrying on." He waited until she stopped shaking before removing his hand from her mouth. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." She said softly, hiccupping as her body was wracked with another sob.

"Good." Richard replied. Then without warning, he raised his right hand and punched her in the face. She fell to the floor, curling her body into a fetal position to try and protect herself from any further attacks. "Don't you _ever_ speak to me like that in my own home, you got that?" Richard declared angrily, waiting until he saw her nod. He sighed in exasperation. "If you want to leave so badly, you know where the door is. I don't need to be dealing with this shit anymore, Joanna. I'm almost 65 years old for fuck sakes." He stepped over her and walked back into the hallway.

"I'm going down to The Tavern for a bit," Richard announced as he slipped his jacket back on. It was still cold. "And if that little bastard ever shows up, don't even think about letting him in." And with that, Richard left the warmth of his home and ventured back out into the cold.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Bob's Tavern_

"What can I get for you?" A perky voice interrupted Richard's wayward thoughts as he sat atop a barstool in his favorite after work hang out. He looked up in surprise, a lascivious smile spreading across his face when he saw who the voice belonged to.

"You're new." Richard declared, looking the attractive young bartender up and down in appreciation. She couldn't be a day over 21.

"Yep." She replied cheerfully, a blush crept across her cheeks when he continued to stare at her. "So, do you want a drink or something?"

"Gimmie a sec, I'm just admirering the view." Richard said, his gaze level with her chest. She really was a pretty girl. Bright blue eyes, long blonde hair and a body to die for. Just the type of hot little slut he used to like to have fun with when he was younger. He sighed, feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. "Get me a beer, sugar."

"Draft or bottle?" the blonde asked, visibly relieved to no longer be the object of his scrutiny for the moment.

"Surprise me." He replied, grinning at her mischievously. He studied her as she reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of Bud Light. "So, where's Bob?"

"Uncle Bob had to go to a meeting with one of his suppliers," She explained, placing the opened bottle in front of him on the bar. "He'll be back soon."

"_Uncle _Bob, huh?" Richard said curiously, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a drink. "So, you must be Amber then."

"Nope, Amber's my big sister. I'm Amy." She replied distractedly, moving out from behind the bar to start clearing off some of the tables that were littered with empty bottles. Holy shit, Richard thought to himself as he took another sip of his beer. Bob talked about his nieces all the time and Richard remembered him boasting about Amy being the valedictorian at her high school graduation a few months ago. She was barely 18!

Richard felt himself harden at the thought of being with a young, sexy woman again. Turning around in his chair, he watched the young girl move about the room. The short skirt she wore clung to her behind in all the right places. As she made her way over to the table that was closest to where he sat, Richard couldn't help but reach out to see if her ass felt as good as it looked.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The young girl shrieked, quickly turning around and staring at Richard in disgust.

"Woah, take it easy. I was just…"

"Being an old perv? Yeah, that's what you were doing." Amy sneered, angrily glaring at the elderly man. "I think you should leave. _Now_."

"You can't kick me outta here." Richard stated, getting up from his seat to stand in front of her defiantly. "I've been coming to this tavern since before you were born."

"Yeah, well once I tell my uncle about this he'll never let you step foot in here again." Amy declared confidently, her bravado faltering slightly when Richard took a step towards her. She glanced around the bar and Richard smiled to himself when she finally realized what he already knew. The exceptionally frigid weather had kept most people indoors that night. They were alone in the bar.

"I'm not going anywhere, sugar." Richard leered, taking another deliberate step towards the frightened young girl. "And if you don't want men looking at you like you're a little slut, then maybe you should stop dressing like one." Richard had her backed up against the table, grinning lasciviously when he realized that she was paralyzed with fear. This was going to be too easy.

"What's going on?" A familiar voice rang out across the room causing Richard to take a step back.

"Uncle!" Amy said, relief washing over her face as she ran to where her uncle stood just inside the doorway. "This old creep has been harassing me all night," she explained, glaring at Richard in disgust. "He even grabbed my ass!"

"Richard," Bob said disbelievingly. "Is this true?"

"Of course not!" He lied. "She's blowing the whole thing outta proportion. Typical broad, eh?" Richard joked, recalling the many nights he and Bob had spent together complaining about the women in their lives and the female sex in general.

"Amy, would you go put these in the back room for me." The bartender instructed his niece, handing her the three bottles of premium vodka he'd just purchased.

"But uncle…"

"Just do it!" He yelled sternly and she hurried off without another word.

"She's quite the little back-talker, ain't she?" Richard chuckled, impressed with the other man's ability to keep the feisty young girl in line.

"Yeah," Bob replied distractedly, his gaze never faltering as he stepped behind the bar.

"Boy, am I glad you're back." Richard sighed, sitting back down on the barstool. "Don't get me wrong, that niece of yours is a real looker, but her bartending skills leave a lot to be desired…" Without warning, Bob reached across the bar and grabbed Richard by the collar, hauling him out of his seat until they their faces were mere inches apart.

"I don't ever want to see you in here again, you got that old man?" Bob sneered threateningly.

"What?" Richard choked out in confusion. "You actually believe what that little bitch said?!" Bob's grip tightened, causing Richard to gasp for air. "I never touched her!"

"Bull shit!" Bob exclaimed. "I know what you're like, Richard. I never would have let Amy work here alone tonight if I'd known you'd be here."

"Bob, I'm hurt that you think so little of me." Richard taunted him sarcastically. "I thought we were friends."

"Yeah, well you thought wrong." Bob sneered. He abruptly let go of Richard's collar and chuckled as the old man fell backwards, almost landing on his ass. "Now, get the fuck outta here."

"You're gonna regret this, Bob." Richard muttered as he lifted himself up off the floor, wincing as he heard his bones crack in protest. He was getting too old for this. "Been comin' here nearly all my life and this is the thanks I get. I should just…" Richard stopped in mid sentence when something over Bob's shoulder caught his attention. "Hey, turn that up for a minute."

"What part of 'get the fuck out of here' didn't you understand?" Bob replied, ignoring the old man's request.

"Come on, I just wanna check my numbers and then I'll leave." Richard promised. Bob looked at him skeptically for a moment before relenting. He picked up the remote and turned up the volume on the small television set situated above the bar.

"Thanks, man." Richard muttered under his breath. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of crumpled up lottery tickets and placed them down on the bar.

"I thought your son was the big gambler in the family?" Bob commented absentmindedly.

"They're not all mine," Richard explained distractedly as he focused on memorizing the winning lottery numbers as they flashed across the screen. "Bought them as a group through work."

"They trusted _you _with their money?" Bob said condescendingly. "Not too bright are they."

"You're a riot, Bob. A real riot." Richard grumbled, still checking his numbers. "Why don't you just…Holy shit!"

"What?" The bartender asked in confusion. Richard's eyes widened in excitement as he glanced down at the winning ticket in his hand.

"Holy shit!" Richard repeated, leaping up from the barstool and grabbing his coat off the rack. "I can't fucking believe this!"

"What, did you win five bucks or something?" Bob teased unenthusiastically, dismissing the old man's excitement.

"You're gonna get your wish my friend cuz I sure as hell won't be stepping foot in this hell hole again." Richard declared, a smile plastered to his face as he practically skipped towards the front door. "See ya around!" And with that, Richard headed back out into the cold. Only this time the frigid temperature didn't faze him as visions of sandy white beaches, expensive cars and scantily clad women danced in his head.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

_Miller Residence_

"Twenty million dollars." Joanna Miller repeated for the umpteenth time since her husband had burst through the door with the good news hours earlier. "What on earth are we going to do with that kind of money?"

"What do you mean _we_?" Richard sneered as he lie awake in bed beside his wife, both of them far too excited to sleep. "It's _my _money, not yours."

"Yes, of course it is. I only meant…"

"Yeah, I know what you meant." Richard said bitterly. "You haven't worked a day in your life and now you think you're automatically entitled to my winnings?!"

"I'm sorry." She apologized, her body tensing in anticipation of the moment when he would once again start using her as a human punching bag. But instead, Richard surprised her and himself by turning over and wrapping his arms around her slender waist.

"Stop apologizing. You're always apologizing." He said softly, his warm breath tickling her as he whispered in her ear. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know." She replied, relishing the tenderness in his voice that appeared so infrequently.

"I know I can be a prick sometimes, but things are gonna be better from now on. I promise." Richard declared sleepily, placing a kiss on his wife's cheek. Snuggling closer together, he sighed in contentment as sleep finally claimed them both.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_3:28am_

The sound of shattering glass pierced through the quiet night, abruptly waking the elderly couple from their sleep.

"What was that?" Joanna asked her equally startled husband.

"How the hell should I know!" Richard replied, the tenderness in his voice that had been present earlier having morphed back into its usual mix of irritation and anger.

"It sounded like it came from the living room." She continued, already starting to get out of bed to go investigate.

"Where do you think you're going?" Richard asked, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. "What if it's a burglar? What are you gonna do then?"

"I dunno." She admitted timidly. Richard sighed in frustration and tiredly got out of bed.

"You wait here, I'll go check things out." He instructed her, slipping on his warn robe and walking out of the bedroom.

"Please be careful, Richard." His wife called out after him, but he ignored her. As he neared the living room, Richard felt the drop in temperature. Shivering uncontrollably, he pulled his robe tighter around his body to protect himself against the chill. Reaching out to turn on the light, his tired eyes took in the scene in front of him. Someone had thrown a brick through the window, the cold air seeping in through the now broken glass. The brick lay in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by shards of glass. Richard glanced at it in contempt.

"Honey, what's going on?" His wife yelled from the bedroom, her voice full of concern.

"Some little shit tossed a brick through the window." Richard explained, already slipping on his winter jacket.

"Should I call the police?" She asked, walking into the living room to survey the damage herself.

"What the hell are the police gonna do?" He said bitterly, quickly stuffing his feet into his boots before heading towards the front door. "I'll handle it myself."

"Richard, no. Please don't, it could be dangerous!" His wife pleaded with him.

"Just shut up and stay inside." Richard instructed her gruffly before opening the door and walking out into the cold night air.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Richard yelled tauntingly as he started making his way down the deserted street in search of the culprits. "It's gonna take more than a brick through a window to intimidate Richard Miller, you got that!" He yelled out confidently. Just then, he heard a rustling sound coming from the alleyway beside his house. He grinned triumphantly, walking into the dark alley to confront the cowards.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you punks never to stay at the scene of the crime?" Richard chuckled at their incompetence. Slowly, he walked further into the alley towards a large cardboard box that was leaning up against the side of his neighbor's house. It moved slightly, emitting another rustling noise. Intent on surprising the wannabe criminals, without warning Richard raised his foot and kicked the box with all his might. A loud screeching sound pierced the night air as a stray cat jumped out from behind the box and ran further into the alleyway, disappearing into the darkness.

"Fucking cat." Richard mumbled in frustration, angry that his search had come up empty. Sighing in resignation, he turned and started walking back towards the street. He didn't notice the dark figure standing behind him hidden in the shadows. He didn't hear the footsteps as the figure slowly crept up behind him and bashed in his skull.

Richard's lifeless body fell to the ground, his blood staining the pristine snow.


	2. Chapter One

-1_Chapter One:_

For the umpteenth time since walking into the precinct that morning, Olivia Benson found herself abandoning the mounds of paperwork she had yet to complete in favor of staring across the desk at her partner. It had been exactly three weeks since he'd finally signed the divorce papers. Three weeks since her awkward conversation with Kathy in Central Park. Three weeks since Elliot had bought her chocolate chip pancakes at Denny's and held her hand for the first time in eight years as they walked down the street at five o'clock in the morning. It hadn't happened again since then, but Olivia could swear she still felt the warmth of his hand in her's.

"You okay?" A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What?" she replied, meeting Elliot's amused gaze as he stared back at her across the desk.

"You spaced out there for a bit." he explained with a shrug. "Must be from lack of caffeine."

"What do you have against tea, Elliot?" Olivia asked, smiling when she recalled his reaction to finding a flower in her cup of green tea the other night. Three weeks ago.

"Nothing." he replied, his gaze returning to the open file in front of him as he pretended to get back to work. "It's just…different."

"Different," Olivia repeated the word softly. She had a feeling he wasn't just referring to her change in beverage preference. Things had been _different_ between them for a while now. Ever since Victor Gitano had forced them to confront feelings they had both spent the better part of seven years denying. Olivia had foolishly thought that time apart was the answer to their problems. She thought she could walk back into his life after months of separation and things would just magically go back to the way they were before. But the feelings of jealousy and betrayal that coursed through her when she had seen Elliot with Dani only confirmed what, in her heart, she already knew. Things were different now. _They _were different now. But Elliot had never been one for change. "Would you rather I go back to drinking coffee?"

"No." he assured her after a few tense moments of silence and Olivia could tell that he was fully aware of the hidden meaning behind her words. "Tea is good." Elliot continued, smiling coyly. "I like tea."

"I like tea too." she replied, grinning back at him as she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"I prefer a nice gin and tonic myself." Munch interrupted, walking passed their desks as he got up to make himself a cup of coffee.

"Really?" Elliot replied, his eyes narrowing as he gave Munch the evil eye for breaking the spell they were under. "I thought Shirley Temples were your drink of choice?"

"Very funny." Munch deadpanned, glaring across the room at Fin who was still chuckling over Elliot's lame insult. "Forgive me for interrupting your little coffee vs. tea debate, which by the way is completely irrelevant."

"How is it irrelevant?" Olivia questioned, generally interested to hear his reasoning. She saw both Elliot and Fin grimace at the can of worms she had just inadvertently opened.

"Do you put sugar in your tea?" Munch questioned her casually.

"Yeah." Olivia replied.

"And milk?"

"More often than not." she admitted. It tasted better that way.

"Well then, you might as well be drinking coffee." he reasoned. Olivia's eyebrow raised in confusion, urging him to continue. "By adding milk and sugar to your tea, you're essentially removing all of the added health benefits. A little bit of sugar is fine, but it's the milk that'll kill ya."

"Oh God, not another one of your dairy product conspiracy theories." Elliot groaned.

"Studies have shown that drinking plain tea helps to keep the blood flowing steadily to one's arteries," Munch continued, ignoring Elliot's glib comment. "But once you add milk, that little health benefit becomes null and void and your arteries go back to being just as susceptible to clogging as they were before." he paused, taking a sip of his drink for emphasis. "So like I said, you might as well be drinking coffee."

"But what about the caffeine?" Olivia argued, unwilling to lose the petty argument without a fight.

"What about it?" he responded casually.

"It's unhealthy _and _addictive," she declared triumphantly, motioning to the steaming hot cup of coffee he still held in his hand. "And last time I checked, there was no caffeine in tea."

"Ah ha, but you see? That's what they want you to think." he declared knowingly.

"Okay, now you're just reaching." Olivia chuckled.

"Am I?" Munch replied confidently before turning his attention back to his own paperwork. "If they'll put cocaine in cola, you can bet your ass they're putting caffeine in tea."

"Oh man," Elliot sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "I want my five minutes back." Olivia smiled in agreement before glancing back down at the file on her desk. She hated doing paperwork, it was beyond tedious. She'd much rather be out on the streets. At least then she would actually feel like she was accomplishing something.

"Hey, I'm starved." Elliot's voice interrupted her thoughts yet again. "Wanna go grab a bite to eat?"

"Sure." Olivia replied, anxious to get some fresh air.

"Great. But you're buying this time." he teased, referencing their impromptu breakfast at Denny's for the first time in three weeks. Olivia cursed the butterflies in her stomach as she smiled at him warmly.

"Fine, but I'm broke so I hope you're in the mood for Micky D's." she joked, getting up from her seat and grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. "And don't even think about supersizing anything."

"You won't drink caffeine because it's unhealthy, but you're more than willing to eat at the fast food chain that has singled handedly doubled this nation's obesity rate?" Munch chimed in, shaking his head in bewilderment. Just then, the phone on Olivia's desk began to ring.

"Ignore it." Elliot mouthed, slipping into his jacket. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to walk out of the precinct with him and deal with whoever it was later, but she was still on the clock and responsibility reared its ugly head.

"Benson." she spoke into the phone's receiver, offering Elliot an apologetic smile as she watched him plop back down into his seat. Her smile quickly faded when the caller identified himself. She had been eagerly anticipating and dreading this phone call for months. Turning away from Elliot slightly, she listened intently to what the caller had to say.

"I understand." Olivia finally responded, hoping that the tremor in her voice didn't make her sound as terrified as she felt. "Alright, just fax all the information to my home address and I'll catch the next flight out."

"What was that all about?" Elliot asked once she had hung up the phone. Her eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at him.

"Cragen," she choked out, ignoring his question. "Is he still in his office?"

"I think so," Elliot responded distractedly. "Liv, look at me." he pleaded, leaning forward in his seat. She reluctantly met his concerned gaze, biting her lower lip to stop it from quivering. "Are you alright?"

"I need to talk to Cragen." Olivia said softly, turning and rushing towards the captain's office without another word. She ignored the other detective's curious glances as she walked into Cragen's office and closed the door behind her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"This is a homicide case, Olivia." Cragen informed her unnecessarily. "It's also out of our jurisdiction."

"We've handled out state investigations before," she argued. "Couldn't you talk to the field office there? See if they'll make an exception."

"I don't want you involved in this investigation, Olivia." Cragen sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I understand how important this is to you…"

"No, I don't think you do." Olivia cut him off angrily, pacing the floor in front of his desk.

"I'm sorry, Olivia." Cragen said firmly. "I'm not changing my mind about this."

"Fine," she conceded, glaring at him in annoyance. "I have some vacation time saved up, I'd like to take it now." she declared, her voice eerily calm. "Things have been pretty slow around here lately, I think the squad can function without me for a few days."

"Olivia," Cragen muttered sternly.

"I haven't taken a day off in months, captain." she reminded him accusingly. "I think I'm entitled."

"There's nothing I can say to persuade you to drop this, is there?" Cragen sighed in resignation. "Alright, fine. You can take one week off, but I want you back here bright and early on Monday morning."

"I'll be here." Olivia assured him, already turning to leave.

"You'll also be meeting with Haung when you get back." Cragen informed her before she reached the office door.

"Sir, that won't be necessary. I'm fine…"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Detective. It's an order." he declared authoritatively, leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, captain." Olivia conceded, briskly walking out of the office before he had a chance to change his mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elliot was seated at his desk when she walked back out into the bullpen, his whole demeanor radiated tension and Olivia silently berated herself for worrying him. She touched his shoulder gently, inwardly wincing when she felt him flinch. They didn't touch. Things may be _different _now, but they still didn't touch.

"Hey." Elliot greeted her, his concerned gaze scanning her face for any sign of distress. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered hoarsely, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" he asked her cautiously.

"I have to take off for a few days." she explained, not looking at him as she began clearing off her desk.

"What for?" he asked casually, but she could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he'd spoken them out loud. _Don't do this. Not again._

"It's a personal matter." she said dismissively. _This has nothing to do with you. With us._

"When will you be back?" he questioned, looking up at her pleadingly. _Stop running away from me._

"I'm not!" she blurted out, catching Munch and Fin's attention across the room. She lowered her voice and continued. "I'm not going to be gone long. A week, tops." She saw the apprehension in his gaze and Kathy's words began running through her mind accusingly. _You give him stability, Olivia. He needs to know he's on solid ground before he can move on. _ Stability. Their lives were anything but stable at the moment, but despite all of the emotions that were threatening to suffocate her at the thought of what she was about to do, she swore to herself that she wouldn't let Elliot down. Not again.

"Does this have anything to do with the FBI?" he continued to dig for information. "Do they want you to go undercover again?"

"Elliot," she sighed in frustration wanting desperately to ease his concern and tell him exactly where she was going and why, but now wasn't the time or place. Besides, he was going through enough right now with his impending divorce. He didn't need to be worrying about her emotional baggage on top of everything else.

"I'll call you as soon as I get there, okay?" she said assuredly. Olivia knew it wouldn't be enough to appease him, but she wasn't willing to say anything more. Not yet.

"As soon as you get _where_?" Elliot questioned demandingly, irritation and anger creeping into his voice. She ignored him, quickly grabbing her things and walking briskly towards the exit. She heard him call out her name one last time, but she didn't look back. She couldn't. If she looked into his eyes and saw the pain he was in, she would break and she couldn't afford to lose control right now. Not when she was already so close to the edge, and she refused to drag him with her into the abyss.

_I'll be back, El. I promise._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Olivia squirmed around in her seat, sighing impatiently as she glanced down at her watch for the umpteenth time. 4:49pm. Twenty minutes until her flight was scheduled to depart. Two hours and thirty eight minutes until she would arrive at her destination and be confronted with something she wasn't at all certain that she was prepared to deal with yet. But she had to do this. She owed it to her mother. She owed it to _herself_.

God, why did airport chairs always have to be so goddamn uncomfortable? Olivia groaned softly, rearranging herself in the ugly orange chair in an attempt to ease the ache that had settled in her lower back. Leaning her head against the wall in resignation, she closed her eyes and waited for the boarding call that would signal the beginning of her journey.

"Fancy meeting you here." A familiar voice whispered in her ear. Olivia's eyes shot open and she fought off the urge to shiver as his warm breath assaulted her skin. She turned around in her seat and came face to face with her partner. He had a duffle bag swung over his left shoulder, a plane ticket held loosely in his right hand.

"Elliot," Olivia choked out in surprise. "What are you doing here?" He grinned at her mischievously, sauntering around the empty row of seats and sitting down in the one closest to her own.

"I had a few sick days of my own saved up, so I figured now was as good a time as any to take a little impromptu vacation." Elliot explained casually. He placed his bag down on the floor before leisurely stretching out in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position in the decidedly uncomfortable plastic chair.

"You don't have to go with me, El." Olivia stated confidently after a few moments of tense silence, trying to mask the overwhelming sense of relief that had washed over her at the thought of having him by her side when she finally confronted her demons.

"I _want _to go with you." Elliot assured her, reaching across the seat to grab the magazine she had forgotten was still in her lap. She saw him smile in amusement as he flipped through the issue of Vanity Fair, shaking his head in bewilderment. She glared at him threateningly. _Yes, Elliot. I drink green tea and read fashion magazines. But I could still kick your ass if I wanted to._ "Besides," he continued, ignoring her silent threat. "I've always wanted to visit the city of brotherly love."

"How did you know where to find me anyway?" She asked suspiciously, grabbing the magazine out of his hands and stuffing it into her carry-on.

"Cragen." He replied simply.

"He told you…" she started to panic, but Elliot held up his hand to silence her.

"He would only tell me _where_ you were going, he wouldn't say why." Olivia closed her eyes and sighed in relief. She would explain everything to him. She _had_ to now that he had decided to tag along. But not yet. She wanted to bask in the illusion of normalcy for a little while longer. But she could tell that Elliot's patience was wearing thin.

"Liv," he started to say when all of a sudden a voice began to play over the intercom, effectively cutting him off.

"Flight #519 to Philadelphia is now ready for boarding. Would passengers in rows 15-25 please proceed to the front gate and have your boarding passes ready for inspection."

"I guess that's us." Elliot declared, rising from his seat and grimacing as he stretched his back to work out the kinks.

"Yep." she replied distractedly as she stood and quickly started gathering up her things.

"So," he said casually as he picked up his duffle bag and reached for her own. "What's in Philadelphia?" _Not yet, Elliot. Please can't I pretend that nothing's wrong for just a little while longer? _She sighed in resignation and met his curious gaze with one of trepidation. It was time to face reality.

"My father," she confessed reluctantly. "He's dead."


	3. Chapter Two

-1_A/N: I'm not sure if I plan on continuing this story or not. I started it last season during Olivia's big emotional family arch, then real life got in the way and I forgot about this fic. I just found this second chapter on my hard drive and figured I might as well post it. If the mood strikes, I may decide to update this story at a later date, but I just thought I should warn you guys ahead of time. _

_Thanks for all the reviews and enjoy! ) _

_Chapter Two_

"I can't believe you." Olivia shook her head in exasperation, openly glaring at him.

"What?" Elliot shrugged nonchalantly, buckling his seatbelt before reaching out to snag the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket in front of him.

"How much did you pay that guy to switch seats with you?" she asked, glancing down the aisle at the obese man whose seat Elliot had just bargained for.

"Don't ask," he replied, grinning mischievously as he continued flipping through the magazine. "Let's just say that lunch is gonna be on you for a while."

"Great." Olivia muttered, her smile fading as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. She knew he was waiting for her to elaborate on the bombshell she'd dropped back at the airport, but Olivia wasn't willing to talk about it yet and he wasn't willing to ask. She turned away from him, glancing out the window and watching as the wing of the 747 effortlessly cut through the clouds. Soon the rays from the setting sun began to sting her eyes and she pulled the blind down to shield them from the glare..

"How come you never told me you knew where he was?" Elliot asked, finally breaking the silence that had settled over them since the plane began its ascent. "Hell, I didn't even think you knew _who _he was."

"I didn't," she admitted quietly, throwing a quick glance in his direction before looking away. "I only found out this morning."

"The phone call." Elliot surmised, nodding slowly to encourage her to continue.

"I hired a private investigator a few months ago," she explained, reaching into her bag and pulling out a thick file folder. She handed it to him, avoiding eye contact as she continued. "I gave him all of the information I had on my mother's case and he was able track down a few leads."

"Richard Miller." Elliot read aloud from the open file in front of him, quickly scanning through the rest of the papers.

"It's an alias," Olivia informed him, casually. Detached. "His real name is Joseph Reynolds. In the late sixties he was employed by a stationary company that used to make deliveries to Columbia University."

"Where your mother worked." Elliot mumbled, still engrossed in the file.

"Right." Olivia nodded, still not looking at him.

"It says here that three other women were raped on campus that summer, but none of them filed a police report or informed campus security."

"That's what it says." She confirmed, irritation seeping into her voice to match the skepticism in his.

"Then how did this PI of yours manage to find out about it?"

"He's the best." Olivia declared, a tiny smile briefly crossing her face. Elliot felt a stab of jealousy hit him unexpectedly, wishing that he were the one responsible for finding the answers she'd been seeking since birth. "From what I understand," she continued, oblivious to Elliot's inner turmoil. "He did a lot of digging around, conducted interviews with alumni and other people who my mother may have come into contact with that summer."

"Sounds like a long shot." He grunted disbelievingly.

"It was," she agreed. "And when I hadn't heard from him in months, I figured the investigation was going nowhere." she paused, smiling again and this time Elliot let himself pretend it was directed at him. "And then I got the call."

"So," he cleared his throat, her confidence in Dick Tracy was beginning to grate on his nerves. He didn't want her getting her hopes up, just in case this turned out to be another dead end. And there was a part of him that desperately hoped it was. She wasn't ready to deal with this. She shouldn't _have _to deal with this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "So he's determined that your fath…that Joseph Reynolds is responsible for raping these other three women?"

"Their stories are practically identical to my mother's and they all occurred within weeks of each other." Olivia explained in a rush, interrupting his objection before he could voice it.. "I realize that's all circumstantial, but it's him, Elliot." she declared with conviction. "I know it is."

"I still don't get how this guy managed to single handedly determine the identity of your mother's rapist _and _track him down. Especially if he's been living under an assumed name all this time." Elliot pointed out suspiciously. He didn't trust this mysterious PI. But for Liv's sake, Elliot hoped the other man was reliable.

And ugly.

"El." She sighed in frustration, closing her eyes as she gently laid her head back against the seat cushion. "Just read the file, okay? I'm not up for this right now."

"Up for what?" He questioned, irritation evident in his tone of voice. "I just want to make sure this guy is legit and you're not getting your hopes up for nothing."

"I don't need you looking out for me," Olivia replied sharply. Her tone softened when she took in the hurt look that briefly crossed his face. "Look, if he's wrong and Joseph Reynolds isn't the man who raped my mother then I'm no worse off than I am right now. But I need to do this, Elliot. And if you can't respect that, then I wish you would just…"

"Okay." He interrupted her tirade, casually pulling down the food tray from the seat in front of him.

"Okay what?" she asked, staring at him in confusion.

"I'll shut up and read the file." He conceded, gingerly placing a few papers on the tray so that he could study them more thoroughly.

"Thanks." She smirked, silently berating herself for taking out her frustrations on him. She would never admit to it of course, but having Elliot with her right now was exactly what she needed.

"Why didn't you just drive?" He asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence that had settled over them once again.

"What?" She replied, eyebrow raised in question. She hadn't expected him to speak again so soon, but for some reason that she didn't want to analyze at the moment, she found the sound of his voice to be a welcome distraction. Soothing even.

"To Philly." Elliot explained, looking at her questioningly. "I mean, wouldn't it have been quicker that way?"

"I felt like flying." She shrugged, turning her attention back towards the window. The blind was still down, but she stared at it longingly, as if willing it to open. "Thanks," Olivia muttered quietly when the silence threatened to envelope them once more. She forced herself to meet his curious gaze and then immediately wished she hadn't. Nobody's eyes should be that breathtakingly blue. "For coming. I could really use your help on this one."

"What are partners for?" He smiled and she had to stop her toes from curling. He was doing that more often lately - smiling. And each time it had the same affect on her. There was a small part of her that missed his constant brooding and scowl. And another, more primal part of her was busy cataloging all of the things that caused his lips to curve upwards so that she could make him do it again.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth?" Elliot asked, his eyes sparkling in amusement and Olivia realized she had been caught staring.

"No," she replied, lightly shaking her head to try and banish her wayward thoughts. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Excuse me, sir." A foreign voice caused both their heads to turn. "Can I interest you in a complementary beverage?" The overly cheerful flight attendant asked politely. Olivia noticed the way the other woman's eyes lit up when Elliot offered her a quick grin in response. Irrationally, Liv wished she could purchase the rights to Elliot Stabler's mouth so that all of his smiles would be directed at her and her alone. She felt a blush creep across her face when her treacherous mind began to think of all the other ways she could put his mouth to good use.

"Yeah, I'll have a coke." Elliot ordered casually, oblivious to his partner's possessiveness.

"Coming right up." The woman replied, a nauseatingly sweet smile plastered on her face. She quickly prepared his drink and placed it down on the tray in front of him, her breast lightly brushing across Elliot's broad shoulder as she did so. Olivia suddenly wished she had her sig with her. "And for your wife?"

"Oh, she's not…"

"I'll have a coke as well, thanks." Olivia cut him off before he could correct the other woman. He looked at her curiously, his sinful smile once again shone in her direction. And all was right with the world.

"Sure thing." The stewardess replied, sounding far less pleasant than when she had taken Elliot's order.

"I thought you didn't drink soda anymore?" He asked her suspiciously, choosing not to question why she had wanted the flight attendant to go on believing they were husband and wife.

"I don't." She shrugged, taking a sip of the dark liquid as it was handed to her. Elliot chuckled and she had to swallow around the lump that formed in her throat at the sound of his laughter. That mouth of his would be the death of her. But what a way to go.

"What happens in Philly stays in Philly, huh?" he said teasingly, eyebrows wiggling for affect.

"Yeah," Her smile faded when she remembered where they were going and why. " Something like that."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Liv?" Elliot questioned, his teasing smile replaced with a look of concern.

"No." She replied honestly, all traces of her previous bravado now gone. She was just as skeptical as he was, maybe even more so. Not to mention scared shitless. "But I'm sure it'll haunt me if I don't." She sighed in resignation, willing the plane to hurry up and land so she could just get it all over with. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the seat cushion and took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. Her eyes snapped open in surprise when she felt Elliot's hand close over her own, his fingers moving to slowly intertwine with her much smaller ones. Without a word, she closed her eyes again and relished the fact that for the second time that month, she and Elliot Stabler were holding hands.


End file.
